


i like my body when it's with your body

by greenbriars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Animal Play, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Butt Slapping, Come Eating, Consensual Somnophilia, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Master/Pet, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tails, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22632403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenbriars/pseuds/greenbriars
Summary: Ben and Rey spend a day in together. Established relationship with pet play, butt plugs, orgasm denial and consensual somnophilia. Also they go to a farmer’s market.She tilts her hips back invitingly, and he brings his fingers lower, and—oh.“You want to play today, my pet?”She smiles again, radiant, pleased at him catching up so quickly. The metal butt plug is slightly slick, and there is still lube around the rim. He imagines her waking before him, horny and in the mood to play, trying to plug herself without a sound and making a mess, going too fast, and it’s so hot he has to close his eyes for a moment.“I asked a question, pet.” He squeezes her ass again, spanks it lightly.“Yes, sir.”“Good girl.”
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 7
Kudos: 129





	i like my body when it's with your body

**Author's Note:**

> i just wanted to write some established relationship pwp with some of my favourite kinks. this is un-betaed. comments are appreciated!

Rey is jostled briefly into wakefulness when someone climbs into bed next to her. The night is silent but for a far-off sounds of traffic, and the room is swathed in darkness. Someone broad, and heavy, with large hands, smelling like—

“Gross,” she complains softly. A huff of laughter tickles the back of her ear. “You haven’t showered yet.”

Ben presses a kiss to her bare shoulder and winds his arms around her waist. He smells of outside and sweat and city pollution, and, underneath all that, home; and Rey takes all the bite out of her words by turning over and curling up into his chest.

#

Ben wakes up to someone sucking his cock.

There isn’t actually one single moment of waking up, only the slow resurfacing into the waking world, a single constant sensation pulling him into reality by a strong, unwavering thread.

Something warm and wet around his cock, soft, suckling noises, and a small, hot tongue swiping up the vein that runs up the shaft.

He squints his eyes in the dim light, and makes out the vague form of Rey, lying on her stomach in the space between his thighs, her feet in the air like she’s reading a magazine or doing the crossword, and if he wasn’t fully hard then, he is definitely rock-hard now.

“Morning,” he grunts, and then hisses when she licks the sensitive head in lieu of a greeting. He tangles his hair into her hair, fond, and jerks up into the sheer heat of her mouth.

She looks at him through her lashes, sly, her lips red and swollen, and twists her hand savagely. He bites back another groan, tugging her hair slightly when he winds his fist through the dark-coloured curls.

She goes back down on him, her mouth enveloping his entire length and her throat working around the head of his cock until she’s nearly gagging. She’s doing something marvellous with her tongue and the underside of his dick, and then drawing back up to suckle the head, and it’s still so good, the best, the suction and the unrelenting wet heat of her mouth, how everything feels tight and painfully glorious.

“Rey,” he warns, “I’m going to—”

And she knows him, she knows him well, so she bobs her head once, twice, and then takes the entire length of him into her mouth, swallowing so that her throat clenches around the head of his cock.

He comes with a shout and a shudder, pulsing down her throat.

A few seconds later, she unlatches herself and crawls up into tuck herself into his side, grinning and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. He can’t begrudge her smugness, not when he’s still panting like he’s run a marathon.

Morning blowjobs are the unparalleled best.

“Shall I…?” he asks, trailing a broad hand down her back and squeezing her perky little ass, but she shifts away.

Before he can express confusion, she plants a quick kiss on his lips, then rests her chin of his chest. “You don’t have anything on today, do you?”

“No. Why?”

She tilts her hips back invitingly, and he brings his fingers lower, and— _oh._

“You want to play today, my pet?”

She smiles again, radiant, pleased at him catching up so quickly. The metal butt plug is slightly slick, and there is still lube around the rim. He imagines her waking before him, horny and in the mood to play, trying to plug herself without a sound and making a mess, going too fast, and it’s so hot he has to close his eyes for a moment.

“I asked a question, pet.” He squeezes her ass again, spanks it lightly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

His hand trails lower, and he combs his fingers through the soft, beige-coloured material of the attached tail. It’s thick and silky, made of very high-quality synthetic fur. The shade and width of the tail reminds Ben of the fennec foxes that live in the desert, burrowing into sand, which is fitting and is the reason he had bought it.

“And don’t let me come until tonight? It’ll be more fun that way.”

It’s not often they have a full day where they can do whatever they want together. A full day for him to tease her and keep her open and warm for him. She must have waited specially for this.

“You dirty girl,” he laughs, tugging on her tail slightly and making her yelp. Rey giggles. She presses her chest against his and grinds against him, horny as anything, and they tangle their tongues together.

#

As Ben finally showers—seriously, it’s so gross that he can just go to sleep without showering—Rey pulls on one of his hoodies, oversized on her and skimming the tops of her thighs, and pulls on some socks. She pads into the kitchen.

Years of living on the streets have made Rey extremely fussy about cleanliness, simply because she can be. She’s gone weeks without showering before, and now that she doesn’t have to, she absolutely won’t.

She’s pulling the loaf of sourdough bread out of the cupboard when Ben enters, still towelling his hair dry.

“That’s my shirt,” he says, mildly, and she sticks her tongue out at him. They both know he likes seeing her in his clothes as much as she likes being in them. He smacks her ass lightly with the towel, playful, and hooks a finger into the top of the thigh-highs.

“You’re trying to kill me,” he accuses softly.

She wraps her arms around his waist as he butters the bread. She cranes his neck over his shoulder to try and steal a bite of toast, which he teasingly keeps out of her reach for a while, bringing it closer and getting her to snap her teeth like a little animal before he holds it aloft again.

Finally, Ben relents, and holds it up to her mouth. She chews, and his hands slide to her hips, which sway, and the tail sways with it. His hands slip under the shirt she’s wearing, and he strokes the bare skin above her panties. She hums with pleasure, a sound muffled around the mouthful she’s chewing, tilts her head back so that he can nuzzle her throat, plant kisses up and down that creamy column on skin.

When she leans in for a kiss, he pulls away, tugging on her tail. “Patience, remember?” he murmurs. She pouts.

Ben makes an omelette and cuts up an avocado and some fruits, toasts more bread. Then he lays everything out on the dining table and tells Rey to go fetch her cushion. She does, holding it in her mouth, and when he laughs, petting her on the head.

She kneels beside his chair, and he lifts the hand from her head to assemble a bite-sized slice of bread with some avocado and egg on top. He feeds her breakfast this way, bite by bite, and she licks and sucks on his fingers until they are clean of crumbs.

Ben gets up to put the plates in the dishwasher, and he tells her to get the clothes from the hamper. There’s a quiet understanding between them as they circle around each other in a domestic dance: kitchen, bathroom, hallway. Ben empties the hamper into the washing machine and Rey pours laundry detergent into the correct slot and hits start.

They reconvene in the living room, on the large, comfortable couch, Ben with his blueprints spread on the coffee table before him and Rey with an adult colouring book in her hands. It facilitates her transition into the sort of headspace they use when they play.

She sprawls across his lap, on her stomach, so that the butt plug isn’t pressing up against anything. Ben rests his large hand on the small of her back, stroking her spine.

An hour or two pass in companionable silence, only the scratch of a pencil on the blueprint and the rustle of pages turning breaking the quiet. Ben’s hand strokes lower, until he’s basically patting her ass, running his palm over them curve of them, and squeezing.

Squeeze, release. Squeeze, release.

The movement jostles the plug, and Rey accidentally colours outside of the line. She frowns, and flips to a fresh page. It’s a fragmented, intricate picture of a fox, which is fitting. Her hand is shaking slightly. It’s a mistake, because the image on the new page is blurring before her eyes, and she doesn’t want to have to turn back.

Ben drags his hand over the seam of her underwear, hooks a finger inside and tugs on it, and then lets go. The elastic smacks her skin, not hard, but she lets out a small gasp anyway. She rocks her hips into the couch cushions, and when she looks up at him, there’s half a smile on his lips, although to all appearances he seems to be entirely focussed on his work.

“Patience, my pet.”

A finger brushes her core, and she stifles a moan. The half-smile grows wider.

“Wet already,” he murmurs, nonchalant, and she glares at him. She _knows_ she’s wet already, has been wet since the morning. She drives her hips into the couch again, frustrated, and flops facedown into his lap and he continues to tease her.

“No coming,” he orders, as he drags his fingers through her folds, slick and getting slicker. She pants with the movement, trying to stop the fluttering in her stomach. 

“Come here, my darling,” he coos, and doesn’t wait for her to react before he’s hauling her up and kissing her thoroughly.

“Let’s get this off, shall we?” he says, tugging the shirt over her head and discarding it somewhere. She winds her arms around him and presses her tits against his chest, burrowing more deeply into the kiss, rocking against his hardening erection.

The kiss is sloppy and wet and open-mouthed, and Rey is desperate for it, desperate for more, which is exactly why Ben keeps squeezing her ass and thrusting up against her, not giving her enough. She fumbles for his zip, and he lets her take his cock out and give it a few experimental strokes into full hardness.

He palms her breasts, bringing his dark head down to suck a bruise over her heart. He yanks the triangle pieces of mesh down, and pinches her nipples, making her gasp, and then he drags his teeth ever so sweetly over the sensitive nubs.

“Please, Ben,” she exhales.

“Mmm?” he hums.

“Please, sir,” she corrects herself, and she can feel his smile outlined against her skin.

He tugs her panties to the side and holds his cock upright with one hand, and uses the other to guide her down.

It’s wonderful. He’s massive, thick and the perfect girth, so large that Rey never thinks he’ll fit. Rey gasps as she sinks down on it, feeling the stretch and the pushback of the plug against her walls.

Ben groans, and when she seats herself fully, they both stay that way for a while, still, savouring the burn and the fullness and the rightness of it. There’s no room for anything else in her.

“God, you’re tight,” he grits out. And then he starts thrusting into her, fucking her slowly, and her mind goes completely blank. It’s a slick, wet slide that steals her breath. Her ass bumps up against the cradle of his hips, and he grips her waist harder. There are white imprints on her skin.

The pace rises in intensity, his broad hands pushing her down as he simultaneously rocks her cock into her, the head of it kissing some divine part of her, and she’s wet, wetter than ever, and the friction is delicious, it’s brilliant, it’s perfect.

He smacks her ass, hard, making her yell, and pinches her nipples.

She’s shaking from it, her thighs starting to feel the exertion, but it feels so good to push back into him. He’s absolutely slamming into her now, their bodies making frantic, obscene noises. They’re fantastic together. Ben’s hairline is damp with sweat and his abdominal muscles are firm under her palms. He presses down on the plug, fucking her with it, just this side of too rough, and she teeters on the edge of orgasm, shivering. She clenches around him, pussy fluttering with the aborted climax. 

“I want to come in your ass,” he whispers, suddenly fervent.

“Yes, sir.”

With his hands on her hips, he turns her so that her back is to him, and then eases her plug out. He winds the tail around his fist. Her hole twitches, clenching around empty air, and Ben tucks a thumb into it, like a bookmark, and presses a kiss to a cheek.

He slicks his dick up, drizzling more over her entrance, then lines his dick up.

He pushes in, slow and inexorable. Beneath him, she exhales, her head drooping, her perfect spine curving.

“Unbelievable,” he growls, shaking his head. It’s tighter here, he swears, the hot hug of her ass clutching at his cock. He tucks his face into the crook of her neck, breathing heavily.

It doesn’t take much longer from there. He rocks up into her, once, twice, and the third time, he yanks her down and drives up into her, punishingly hard, making stars explode behind her eyes, and then he’s coming in her in pulsing waves.

It’s never enough to make her come—what she needs is internal and external stimulation. If he would just thumb her clit—but no. She asked for this. If she had come in the morning this entire day would be a lot less fun, and what she wants—what they both want—is to draw this out for as long as possible.

But god, she wants it so bad. Her clit feels like it’s throbbing.

When she heaves herself of him, cum trickles down her thigh. He reaches out with a finger and gently scoops it up and pushes it back in. The graze of his calloused skin on the sensitive skin of her ass makes her hips jerk, abortive and wanting. She whines.

He just laughs, like, _You asked for it,_ and then pushes the plug home. It sits in the divot of her ass, holding all his cum in her, and his obvious pleasure at the thought makes her whine again.

He re-arranges her so that they’re lying on the sides, facing each other, and he slides his still-hard cock back in her. He rocks in and out gently, trembling with the aftershocks, and mouths around his nipples.

His teeth score the peak of her breast, and suddenly her hips snap forward, and she shudders. He withdraws, surprised. “Did you just come?”

“I—I don’t know. I don’t think so. It wasn’t a proper one.”

These things happen sometimes, when she’s over-sensitized; her muscles suddenly spasm in the relaxing of a tightly wound cluster of nerves. Mini-orgasms, she calls them in her head, but it’s a bit of a misnomer because they don’t satisfy her.

He smiles, pleased and a little indulgent since she didn’t actually break a rule, before rising to find a clean towel.

#

“If you want to go to the farmer’s market after lunch, we have to leave now,” he reminds her, stroking her cheek. He’s loathe to drag her out of her drowsy state of mind by bringing her out, but the farmer’s market only comes once a week, and they both love the place. And anyway, it’s a familiar enough space that it shouldn’t take her too far out of subspace.

“I know, sir,” she says, stretching. There are red teeth marks all around her breasts, and there seem to be faint bruises in the shape of fingers on her hips. He tweaks a nipple because he can and ducks away from her playful smack.

“Brat,” he calls, fondly.

They go back to the bedroom to change, Rey throwing on a cream-coloured crop top and untying the tail from the butt plug. She’s just shimmying into a pair of pale grey shorts when Ben realises something.

“Hey,” he says, “Don’t you want to change your plug?”

“I’m okay,” she says, shrugging.

He looks at her sceptically. The one that comes with the tail is hefty, with barely any give. It’s medical-grade steel. She’s never worn it out the house before, and never for so long.

“You sure?” He holds up the one with the thin, soft neck. “This would be more comfortable if we’re going out. Or at the very least one of the smaller ones.”

“No,” she says, stubborn, buttoning up her shorts. “I can handle it.”

“If you say so.” He shrugs, and grabs his wallet, keys, and two tote bags.

#

They have lunch in a little Italian bistro, sharing pizza. Rey shifts in her seat every so often, and Ben can tell that she likes knowing it’s there. He imagines her clenching down on it every so often and getting wetter from the attention to her nether regions, and he can barely suppress his smile.

The farmer’s market is packed, as usual, couples and families from the neighbourhood and even the surrounding boroughs coming to buy and sell fresh produce. It’s a warm, perfect summer’s day, and the sunlight streaks Rey’s hair with gold and turns her eyes into liquid amber.

Scavenging for scraps for survival has given Rey a certain _attitude_ about food. Sure, they have money now, but she’ll never understand paying fifty dollars for a main course that’s five pieces of protein laid out stylishly, and Ben knows this. They’ve even had some fights about it, little spats that break out and morph into bigger things that are only tangentially about food. To her, food is food, and the only reason they’re at the farmer’s market and not the nearest superstore is that Ben likes to know where his groceries are from, likes to buy organic and free-range and ethical. But Rey hates to stinge on the necessities. He knows that given free rein, she’ll always end up overstocking their pantry.

They split up when he decides he wants to buy some _prosciutto di parma_ and she wants to look at the vegetables.

He finds her, fifteen minutes later, holding twin loaves of bread, one tucked into each elbow like she’s holding two crusty, still-warm babies. She’s grinning from ear to ear.

He wraps his arms around her from behind, his cloth tote bag coming to rest against her hip. He bumps up very deliberately against her plug, just to remind her it’s there, and she jerks a little.

He smirks.

They get the bread, and then cheese, and fancy French butter, and preserves, honey, cloudy apple juice, and Spanish _jamon iberico._ Ben keeps his hand on her ass, innocuous, his pinkie finger just happening to rest on the base of the plug.

They’re on the way back, cutting through the park, when Rey suddenly freezes.

“Ben,” she whispers.

“Yeah?” he asks, turning to look at her. Her eyes are wide.

“What is it, baby?”

“I think,” she swallows. “I thought my plug is going to fall out.”

“For real?” He glances behind them; the coast is clear. He runs a hand over her butt, taps the plug with his finger.

“Feels fine to me.”

“No, you don’t understand,” she insists. “It feels like it’s going to _fall out._ ” Her face is going white with the strain, and he imagines her clenching down desperately.

Suddenly, it hits him. “You silly girl, I told you to change plugs before we left,” he says, trying not to laugh.

She looks at him, stricken.

“It’s a heavy metal plug. Your butt muscles are just tired.”

She checks behind them too, and, finding the road clear, she shoves one of the paper bags into his hands so that she can feel for herself.

And then she just keeps her hand there.

“Please tell me you’re not going to hold your plug in on the rest of the walk home,” he says, dry as tinder.

She flushes, and tries to take her paper bag back, but he doesn’t let go. He transfers all the bags to one of his hands so that he can take her spare one, and presses a calming kiss to her knuckles. She exhales shakily.

He does consider taking a cab back, even though Rey would balk at the unnecessary expense, but they’re in the middle of a park, and to get out would take very nearly the amount of time it would take to get home.

The next ten minutes pass in silence.

The minute they’re past the threshold, Rey has dropped her remaining grocery bags—it’s a good thing they didn’t buy eggs—and raced to the bathroom, shedding her clothing as she goes. Ben can hear the sound of running water as he puts the groceries away, making room in the cupboards and the fridge.

The water shuts off, and he looks up just in time to see her streak into their bedroom, just a blur of girl and fluffy white towel.

He saunters in, chuckling, and finds her sprawled face-down on the bed, boneless. The towel has been tossed in the general direction of the hamper, and it lies half-in, half-out. She’s taken her hair out from those three knots, and they tumble in chaotic waves around her head.

“Do you want to take your plug out?” he asks, amused. The skin around the plug is slightly puffy, the muscle a dusky rose. Tempting.

“No, it’s okay now,” she says, muffled by the pillow.

He goes to sit beside her, pulling his laptop out of its bag, and cards his fingers through her hair. Her breathing is starting to slow.

“You sure you don’t want to…” He taps the base of the plug.

“Mmm… anything,” she mumbles.

He keeps threading his fingers through her hair. He can hear the exact moment when she drops off, when her breathing evens out into sleep.

Rey has a lot of control over her sleep. It’s a product of a childhood spent crashing at truck stops and homeless shelters and park benches. She can choose whether to sleep lightly or deeply and for exactly how long. Ben has seen her wake up after precisely twenty minutes, or thirty minutes, or whatever pre-allotted time her schedule allows, without needing a single alarm, particularly in those days when she was still studying. She would take power naps before getting up to cram some more.

Now, she’s breathing deeply, and he knows that she’s probably allowing herself to take a longer nap than usual. It could stretch to an hour, or maybe even an hour and a half.

He palms his cock through his sweats.

Well. She did say anything. He folds his laptop away and strokes his dick. When he slips a fingertip into her pussy, he finds that she’s still slightly wet, from the quick rinse earlier or the plug or the morning’s exertions—

Good.

He levers himself over her, stroking his cock, and feeling it harden even more. In sleep, she’s soft and smells slightly milky. Her limbs are akimbo, tanned and slender and graceful, and the curve of her spine is a mathematical equation. One of her knees is raised, and he crooks that knee further up to give himself better access.

He noses at the crease of her thigh. At her core, she smells like something crushed and dark and sweet. He presses the flat of his tongue to it.

She doesn’t stir.

He drags his tongue up her seam, and pushes past her pink folds to her hot centre. He finds her clit to be swelling already, a rosy little button that he swirls his tongue over. He licks her again, and again, thorough but never doing more than dipping inside, and although she breathes a little harder, she doesn’t wake. In fact, she spreads her thighs—already slick on the inside—even wider for him.

It’s wonderful.

He pushes a single finger inside, testing, and finds it wet enough. His cock is beginning to throb, so he crawls up her prone form, watching the steady rise and fall of her back. He smears some of her slick onto his cock, presses a kiss to her nape, and then guides his cock into her waiting cunt.

Her brow furrows, and he stills and wait for it to smoothen out. When it does, he pushes in, inch by infinestimal inch, till his entire length is buried in her. Then he pulls out, slowly, until just the tip is nestled inside, and then glides in again.

He can see the appeal. Taking his time, taking his pleasure. The heat is _exquisite._ He can feel every slick inch of delicious friction and his dick rubs against her slick heat. He thrusts in, and loses himself in the sensation a little. It’s filthy. It’s beautiful. A flush crawls up her neck.

He doesn’t realise he’s sped up until he feels her stir, and then he gentles again. But would it be so bad to wake her up? How she’d pretend to protest, tightening up around him, pushing her ass back. God.

He pushes in, hard, and feels her breath start to quicken. He keeps up a steady pace, panting over her, driving into her more forcefully with each thrust. He fucks her into wakefulness, pushing her down between her shoulder-blades when he feels her finally— _finally_ —startle into consciousness.

“Hnnhh,” she gasps, eyes flying open.

She struggles beneath him for a while, gasping. All the while she gets wetter and wetter, the more she writhes beneath him, unable to get the leverage to lift her hips and touch herself. He thrusts into her, merciless, steals his pleasure from her body, still warm and lax with sleep.

Rey is an instructor at an MMA studio. If she wanted to flip him, she probably could. Still, he grabs her hands and bends them so that each hand is locked onto the other elbow.

“Please, Ben,” she gasps. He slaps her ass in warning. “Please, sir—please, yes—ah—that’s— _ah_ —so good! Yes, sir, yes!” she sobs, and he hauls her up to press her against his chest. Her face is flushed and hazy with the remnants of sleep, her eyes glazed over with arousal. He squeezes her breast savagely. A hand locks around her throat.

“You little slut,” he growls, feeling her tremble beneath him as he drives his hips into her. He’s enjoying himself tremendously, and he can tell she is too. “I couldn’t help myself. You’re lucky I didn’t fuck your ass, or you’d be crying right now.” 

And then he buries himself to the hilt and spills into her, shuddering, crushing her to his chest, and then collapsing onto the mattress and pinning her beneath him. She whines, frustrated, but he’s still got his large hand wrapped around both her forearms, and she can’t do more than twist her torso. 

He pushes her hips down as he pulls out of her. The sound is obscene, and she whines again, frustrated, aching for friction. He keeps holding her down as he situates himself at the juncture of her spread thighs, spreads her ass-cheeks even further.

The first swipe of his tongue, broad and firm, makes her rear back. She gasps, squirming, and he holds her down more insistently. Another lick brings with it the salty taste of slick and semen.

“Ben, _god,_ ” she gasps, shivering. She swats at him; he grabs the hand and pins in to the bed. His tongue curls, teasing the sensitive flesh as he proceeds to eat his cum right out of her cunt. “That’s _disgusting._ ”

“Really?” he says, lifting his head. There’s a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Shall I stop?”

_“No.”_

He doesn’t give her fingers, he doesn’t give her anything more than his mouth, bringing her over and over again to the edge of orgasm, dipping his clever tongue into her. He can feel her desperately clenching, trying to get the feeling of fullness from the plug, and he has to laugh, knowing it’s just not enough.

“Don’t come,” he says, lifting his mouth from her and sliding two fingers in, and Rey whines. He shoves her knees back down, stretching her thighs as far apart as they can go, and Rey makes piteous noises, her nipples pebbling in the air.

When she’s (mostly) pink and clean again, he sits up on his haunches, and she slowly twists around to face him. There are tear tracks down her cheeks.

“You’re a horrible sadist,” she declares. She kisses him, bites his lip, and then soothes the sting with her tongue. She’s too bold by half, little brat, so Ben spanks her—just a little, to get her to cry out. She pouts pathetically and climbs into his lap, rubbing futilely against his thigh, getting saliva and cum and slick everywhere.

“Put your tail back on before you come for dinner,” he says, and then gives her another bruising kiss and a spank before walking out.

#

They make dinner together, a simple salmon penne pasta with crème fraiche. Ben lets her sit on his lap while he feeds her forkful by forkful, fondling her ass with his broad, warm palm and squeezing it intermittently. 

When they’re done, they cuddle some more in front of the television. There’s a movie playing, but later, Rey won’t be able to remember a single detail. Her arousal is a banked thing, drifting at the edges of her consciousness. Ben runs his hands up her sides, over her hips, waist, and breast. She’s wearing a bra and a skirt because they’d been cooking earlier, and it would’ve been the height of foolishness to cook naked, even if Ben didn’t let her do more than tear up the smoked salmon. His hand brushes up against her plug, and her little hands are fisted in his shirt. She rubs her thighs together, feeling the slick drag of the soft skin. 

At ten, Ben turns the TV down and pulls her by her thighs towards him. He pushes her down onto the couch, and bends to kiss up her thighs, resting at the apex of them.

The first touch of his tongue on her makes her desire rear its head. Instantly, her libido goes from zero to a hundred. She’s aroused again, and this time he wastes not a second, delving in with his tongue and licking her thoroughly, before pushing two fingers into her cunt and crooking them.

“You can come,” he murmurs, before diving back in, and then he flutters his fingers against that spongy, ridged surface in her. Rey arches against him, chasing her pleasure with a feeling of helpless relief. His tongue speeds up, and Rey starts to feel the heat building low in her belly, coiling tighter and tighter, and then the tip of his tongue flicks against her clit, and he says, “Now, pet. Come for me.”

And she does, clenching down on his fingers and arching her back like a loosed bowstring, gasping breathlessly. Ben finger-fucks her limp body through her long-awaited climax. It swells in her, sharp contractions in her abdomen, then surges through her like a flood after the dams have given. White-hot pleasure crashes through her, wave after wave of pulsing, unforgiving heat, until she’s shaking apart in his arms and sobbing a little, tears squeezing out from the corners of her eyes

The relief is breath-taking and instantaneous. 

Finally, when she regains control of her limbs, Ben carries her back to their bed and arranges her so that she’s lying with her face tucked into the juncture between his shoulder and his neck. She breathes him in there, inhaling slow and deeply.

“How are you doing?” Ben asks, brushing kisses along her spinal vertebrae.

“Good. Love you.”

“Good,” he says, and holds her for a while longer.


End file.
